Sword Sworn-Sword Dancer 6 (37 page)

I continued turning pages. "Hmmm . . . what do you suppose
this
means?"

Umir couldn't control himself. "Stop it! Stop it!" Hands reached out. "Give it to me!"

I looked beyond him as I saw movement in the doorway. Nayyib, escorted by Umir's servant, exited

the house. His near-black hair was sticking up all over his head as if he'd been rousted from a nap. In

fact, his eyes looked a little bleary, too. Had Umir drugged him?

I looked at the tanzeer. "Horse."

"Coming," he retorted.

And so it was, as another servant led the bay around from the stable block. Bridled and saddled,

saddlepouches and botas tied on, ready to go.

I glanced at Nayyib. He was in a sad way, blinking woozily out at the sun-washed courtyard. Umir's

little joke, to drug the boy. And neither Del nor I could chance giving him a hand, or we'd endanger the

entire rescue. "You," I began, "have caused me no small amount of trouble. How about you get up on

your horse and head out of here? Now."

Nayyib nodded vaguely, scrubbing vigorously at his stubbled face. But didn't move.

I pointed. "That horse right there."

"Neesha," Del said, still waiting behind me. The tone was a complex combination of relief, concern,

and command. And something I couldn't identify.

Umir glared at me. "The book."

"When the boy is mounted and heading out of here."

Nayyib finally bestirred himself to walk haphazardly to his horse and stick a foot in the stirrup. With

great effort he pulled himself up. I heard the sound of a burnous seam ripping as he fell into the saddle. I

wondered if I'd have any teeth left by the time we exited the courtyard. Already my jaw ached from

clenching it.

"Go," Del told him, as Nayyib lifted reins.

The stud, taking a closer look at the bay, suddenly filled the courtyard with a ringing neigh. I winced.

Del's voice again: "Neesha. Go."

Neesha went.

"You too, bascha." I heard retreating hoofs clopping agains the pavers. Then I smiled down at Umir.

"Your book."

I thought he might send a servant to take it from me. But Umir came himself, lower lip caught in white

teeth as he reached up for it.

"I've locked it closed," I told him, "for safety." I handed over the book. "It may take you a few

weeks or years, but eventually you'll figure out how to open it."

Eyes wide with alarm, Umir attempted to undo the latch holding the book closed. "No—
no
—"

"A little insurance," I remarked, "in case you felt like trying a spell on me when I wasn't looking."

He hugged the book to his chest, staring up at me. "But—how did you do this? It requires a spell to

lock it!"

"Let's just say I picked up a few things while visiting an island paradise." I tossed him a jaunty wave

as I backed the stud toward the opening in the wall. "Happy reading, Umir."

Outside the walls, I found Del and Nayyib waiting. I motioned them to ride on as I headed past

them.

Del's face was white. "I can't believe you did that."

"What—give him the book? Why not? It worked, didn't it? Nayyib-Neesha is now our guest instead

of Umir's." I glanced at the boy. "Are you drugged? Did Umir drug you?"

Owl-eyed, he shook his head.

Suspicion stirred. "Drunk?"

His tone was excessively grave. "I believe so, yes."

I swore deeply and decisively.

Del was still stuck on the book. "I thought you said it contains magic spells."

"It contains a number of things, including magic spells. It's a pretty amazing book, actually."

"And you gave it to Umir?"

"Well, I'd read it already." I grinned at her. "What did you think I was doing all day when you were

asleep in bed?"

Del was stunned. "You read that whole book in an afternoon?"

"Just a little trick I picked up in Skandi." I took a hard look at Nayyib. "Are you sober enough to

stay on your horse?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Do you know where the oasis is from here?"

"I believe so, yes."

"That's where we're going."

Nayyib nodded amiably. "All right." Then a hiccup emerged, attended by a modest belch.

I planted the flat of my palm against my brow. "Gods save me from a sandsick woman and a drunk

boy!"

Del scowled at me. "I am not sandsick, and he's not a boy."

"But he's drunk."

Nayyib offered, "I believe so, yes."

"Oh, hoolies," I groaned. "Maybe I should take my sword to him. Or go on ahead and let him find

his own way to the oasis. I only might have been killed in there getting him free, and it turns out he's

drunk. Drunk!"

"Neesha," Del said gently, "I would be quiet now."

"All right." He gifted her with a luminous smile and a worshipful stare from those melting,

honey-brown eyes. "You're so beautiful."

"Oh, hoolies," Del muttered.

TWENTY-SEVEN

WE MANAGED to get the boy to the oasis.

Or rather,
Del
managed to get the boy to the oasis; I was so disgusted by his condition I refused to

have anything to do with him. He managed to stay aboard his horse, which was all that mattered to me,

and upon finding a quiet little place at the oasis that we might call our own for an hour or two, I

dismounted and led the stud off to the spring. I left Del to deal with the kid. Which maybe wasn't the

wisest thing in the world to do, in view of his obvious infatuation, but I wasn't in any mood to put up with

either of them. And since I knew Del had no tolerance for drunkenness, I doubted she was any more

entranced with Nayyib than I was. The main thing was, he was free of Umir and my debt was repayed.

Del and I could now get on about our business.

I was heading back to the trio of palm trees when I met Del leading her gelding and Nayyib's bay.

"Did you get him settled all safe in his own little bed?"

Del, pausing, shot me a hard glance."You might have a little sympathy for him."

"I jut risked my life for a drunken kid! Why should I have any sympathy for him?"

"Umir could have killed him."

"Umir wanted his book back too much for that." "Which you
gave
him."

"In exchange for the boy. The one
you
were so all-fired determined to rescue. Well, he's rescued.

He can stay here and sleep it off, and you and I can get on with our lives."

She seemed startled. "I don't want to leave him here."

"Why not?"

"He's drunk."

"He can sleep it off."

"What if he gets sick?"

"I never died from it." I paused. "Neither did you, when you got drunk on Vashni liquor."

Color flooded her face. "We are not discussing me."

"Maybe we should."

"Why? This has nothing to do with me!"

"He's not a stray kitten, bascha, or a puppy with a broken leg, or even an orphan sandtiger cub—

though you might not be so thrilled with the idea of saving baby sandtigers, now, after our last meeting

with one. He's a grown man; he can take responsibility for his own binges."

Del's eyes narrowed. "You
are
jealous."

I sighed with long-suffering patience. "I think not."

"If you weren't, you'd have nothing against helping him."

"Rescuing him isn't helping?"

"He spent days nursing us both after the sandtiger attack, and weeks with me at the Vashni

encampment."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"Yet you want to just ride off and leave him here to fend for himself when the gods know
who
might

try to rob him."

"Sometimes that's what happens when you get drunk. It's called a learning experience."

"And I'm learning a little more about you just now, aren't I?" She clucked to the horses and started to

move them out. "Do whatever you like, Tiger. I'm staying here with Neesha at least until morning."

I watched her disappear between two wide horse butts as she led them down the path. I found the

image extremely appropriate, in view of her behavior.

Aloud, I said, "I think this was the most ridiculous argument we've ever had." I patted the stud's face.

"And we've had a few." Being a very wise horse, he did not comment.

Nayyib was sound asleep when I got back to the little encampment. Del had unloaded gear and set

out his bedroll; he lay sprawled upon it on his back with one bent arm flung across his eyes. I

contemplated the rest of him, which was partially hidden beneath his burnous. But the legs were free of

encumbrance, and one shoulder, and a forearm. Not a big man, not like me, but not small, either. His

coloring was Southron, including the big brown eyes that he used to such advantage, curse him. A

good-looking kid, no doubt, if still a tad soft around the edges; and certainly closer to Del in age than I

was. Maybe that's why she wanted to mother him. She couldn't do it to me.

Not that she'd ever indicated she wanted to.

Scowling, I turned my attention to the stud, pulling off pouches, saddle, and blankets. I had thought

to ride on after a rest, believing the oasis too obvious if Umir sent anyone after us or if there happened to

be sword-dancers in the vicinity, but there was not much time before sundown. This place offered water,

a little shade, safety in numbers.

Or maybe just more witnesses than usual.

I hobbled the stud, grained him, draped the halter-rope over one of the spiky bark segments

sheathing the bole of the nearest palm tree. Someone else had built a modest fire ring not far from

Nayyib's unconscious body, but we lacked kindling for it, and I didn't feel like going on a lengthy hunt for

wood. Over the years pickings had become very slim near the oasis, so that most people on wagons

carried wood with them if they wanted a fire, and a pot of embers they kept alive by feeding it twigs

regularly. Del and I didn't pack that heavy; if there was no wood for a fire, or circumstances warranted it

was safer to go without, we didn't bother.

I didn't bother now. I just set up my own little area with upside down saddle, drying blankets spread

next to it, and bedding unrolled. I shed the harness and sword and set the blade within reach. Then I lay

down in a posture very similar to the kid's, if without the accompaniment of liquor fumes, and let myself

drift. Del came back a little later. Eyes closed, I listened as she finished untacking her gelding and

Nayyib's, hobbled them, told them to behave themselves, then crunched over to where the kid lay.

"He's alive," I remarked.

She didn't answer. She just arranged her own bedding—closer to him than to me—and settled

down.

"We'll spend the night, all right? Make sure he's alive in the morning. Then we'll go."

There was no reply. Swearing under my breath, I rolled over onto one hip and pulled the corner of a

blanket over my face. With one hand draped across the hilt of my sword, I went to sleep. If she was so

concerned about the kid, Del could keep watch for any stray sword-dancers looking to get some of

Umir's reward money.

I woke up to morning when I heard the sound of a body moving nearby. My hand locked around the

sword hilt, lifted the blade even as I sat upright—and discovered Nayyib staggering off from our little

camp with the frenzied focus of a man in dire need of relief. Since it was very likely his head, bladder,

and
belly were ready to burst, I hoped he found it in time.

Dropping the sword back onto my bedroll, I arched backward to stretch my spine and shoulders.

Del, coming out of the cocoon of blankets between me and the kid's bedding, squinted at the early

sunlight. Not far from our camp a danjac brayed and was answered by another, which began a whole

chain of earshattering morning greetings from one end of the oasis to the other. No one could have slept

through that.

Del finger-combed hair off her face as I crawled out of bed and stood. Across the oasis other bodies

were doing the same, murmuring to one another as the day began.

I bent and picked up the sword. "I think the kid's got the right idea—" I yawned. "—though I don't

believe I'm in quite the same distress. Be back in a bit."

Nodding, Del gathered up horse buckets and headed for the spring. Everyone carried water to their

animals first thing in the morning, since to take livestock to the spring would form a milling mass of thirsty,

impatient animals all insisting they deserved to drink first. Much safer to do it this way.

When I got back to the camp, I found Nayyib standing near his bedroll, staring at mine and Del's as

if he had no idea who they belonged to. He heard me coming and turned sharply. Momentary alarm

faded.

"Oh," he said.

"Yes, oh. It's us. Or did you forget what happened yesterday afternoon?"

"I think I have forgotten
all
of yesterday, not just the afternoon." He scooped up a bota,

unstoppered it and took a long pull. The last mouthful he turned and spat out. "Yeilkth," he remarked—

or something like it. He backhanded excess moisture from his jaw and looked at me. "What happened?"

"We rescued you."

"Oh." He nodded vaguely. "Good."

Near-black hair stood up in clumps all over his head. Stubble darkened the hollows beneath his

cheeks, enhancing the steep, oblique angles of the bones above them. He had the look of a slightly

disreputable but appealing young man coupled with boyish innocence down to perfection. But the

honey-brown eyes, I saw with a stab of satisfaction, were bloodshot, and his color was slightly off.